Page 11 of Child of Mine

A man sidles up next to Carol. After she introduces me to her husband, he puts his arm around her and gives her shoulders a squeeze. “Speaking of children, we told the babysitter we’d be back by ten.”

Carol checks her watch. “I didn’t realize it was so late.” She searches her clutch for a few moments before blowing out an exasperated breath. “I don’t have any cards with me, but you can just call the station and ask for me.” She grasps my arm. “Could you come in next week so we can talk about it? I’d love to have you on the team, and I’m sure we could work things out schedule-wise.”

“Um, sure. I’ll call.”

She gives me a hug before her husband hustles her away.

I think I just got a job offer. Problem is, I already have two jobs on top of my responsibilities as a mom. And going back to television? Just the thought has my mind and my heart racing.

And I’m not sure if it’s in fear… or anticipation.

Chapter 2

“TV FOR TOTS: Producers of the recently syndicated children’s showCowboy Clemare pleased to announce that their western-clad star has charmed his way into more lineups across the country, expanding the franchise into thirty new locations. It just goes to show that captains and clowns aren’t the only authority figures kids will cuddle up to!”TV Today, May 1989

HENRY

It’s my last day at work at the Raleigh affiliate. The place I thought would be a way station for a year. Two tops.

It’s been seven.

When I first took a job here, I told my just-widowed mother that I needed the break from the hustle of New York, that I wasn’t ready for the big promotion I turned down after an aneurysm took my dad from us. I told myself that I was staying here for my family.

The truth? I was so weighed down by guilt, I could barely make it out of the house in the morning.

My dad was my hero. He was the one who got me my very first Super 8 camera at the age of ten. He’d watch the crappy little movies I made as a teen and critique them like I was Martin Scorsese. He encouraged me to take the first job in the big city, even helped me pay the bills until I got myself situated. Family was the most important thing to him, but he knew that I wanted to change the world by making TV that was thought-provoking as well as entertaining.

But the last time I saw him, his face was red, and he hurled insults that I lobbed right back at him. Losing him without being able to make peace had me questioning every choice I’d ever made. So I threw myself into reconnecting with the family I still had—my mom, three siblings, and too many cousins and aunts and uncles to count.

No matter how hard I tried, though, I still never felt like I quite fit in. I was useless at the family landscaping business—grouchy with customers, killing plants right and left—and every time I tried to babysit my younger second cousins, I somehow made somebody cry.

So I got the best job I could find in this one-horse town: running a camera at a local affiliate TV station. I kept busy there. Moved up quickly. I’ve tried to be satisfied with life here, with the career I’ve patched together.

Truth be told, I probably acquired more knowledge about the actual workings of a television show than I would have had I climbed the producer ladder in New York. I was willing to do anything, so I’ve operated cameras, navigated the editing suite, and assisted directors and producers on every locally produced show from the news toRomper Room. It was my idea to develop our own kids’ show whenBozogot too expensive. Now our franchise,Cowboy Clem,is nipping at the clown’s heels around the country.

And I’m leaving it all behind.

Ralph—the station’s weatherman and my closest friend since high school—still doesn’t get why I’d leave one provincial city for another one. Especially one where it actually gets cold in the winter.

As we take a table in the cafeteria, he shakes his head. “I still can’t believe you’re going to move a thousand miles away just to dodge Christine. What’s up with that? You break up with your sister’s best friend, you have to leave town?”

“I may be afraid of my sister, but I’m not that afraid.”

“It’s one thing to leave. But why would you choose Boston over Los Angeles? I just don’t get it.” He pokes at his salad. Since his work is in front of the camera, there’s more pressure to stay trim, which is not as easy at thirty as it was in our teen years when we played every school sport there was. “I mean, I’m sure there are pretty girls in Boston, but the girls in LA…” He sighs, obviously picturing girls like the Malibu Barbie my twin sister had.

“Not everyone lets his dick make all his decisions, Ralph.” I’m not ready to admit that I don’t have the guts to conquer a major market anymore, even to my best bud. Or that I’m worried that I may have missed my chance. I’ve got another argument instead. “If I took that operator gig in LA, I’d make more money, but I’d be a cameraman forever. There’s no crossover. In Boston the public station is more like it is here in that everybody does a bit of everything.”

“You could stay here. You’ve still got your looks. Why don’t you go for my weatherman slot when I move up to the desk? Or sports?”

I almost choke on my RC Cola. “Are you kidding me? Wear makeup and smile and make stupid jokes?”

Ralph drops his fork. “You think that’s all I do?”

“Nah, I’m talking about the sports guys.” I shake my head, picturing his easygoing patter as he reads the teleprompter and gestures in front of the green screen. “I don’t get the weather.”

He shrugs. “I just read the script.”

“I’d still have to perform.”

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